


The Family Day Affair

by ssclassof56



Series: Then Live With Me and Be My Love [6]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 15:25:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10699803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssclassof56/pseuds/ssclassof56
Summary: Illya brings his children to a nuclear research laboratory for the day. What could go wrong?





	The Family Day Affair

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to LiveJournal's MFU Map Room  
> Inspired by events at CERN in April 2016

Illya knew by the tingle in his scalp that he was being watched. He lowered the yellow-labeled file folder, turning his thoughts from risk assessments and control measures. A set of beady eyes stared at him intently, their fixed gaze at odds with the green Tyrolean hat perched jauntily above them.

His opinion thus solicited, Illya said, “Moby looks very handsome.”

A small head crested the opposite edge of the desk. “Nappy,” the little girl corrected with her typical economy of words.

Illya met his daughter’s grave blue eyes and spotted the tiny twinkle in their depths. From behind his glasses, he twinkled back. “If you want him to send any more hats for that lobster, he had better not hear you’ve rechristened it.”

Liliya shook her head, her eyes gleaming with the assurance of having Napoleon Solo thoroughly wrapped around her finger. “Nappy,” she repeated, before she and the taxidermy lobster descended back to their play area on the floor.

Illya chuckled quietly, then returned with a sigh to the unacceptably slow progress of the facility’s security upgrades. He paused a few paragraphs later when both a tiny Moroccan fez and his communicator vied for his attention. Nodding his approval of the hat, he uncovered the transceiver.

His secretary at UNCLE HQ Geneva responded. “Overseas relay from New York, sir.”

“Put it through.” A few clicks and a pause, then a familiar voice wished him a good morning.

“You're up very early,” he replied. “Or should that be up very late?”

“Couldn't sleep. I had that dream.” Faustina yawned extravagantly. “How’s Family Day?”

“Uneventful...though, as we’re only an hour in, I hesitate to say it.” At his wife’s warm gurgle of laugher, Illya became keenly aware that she had been in New York for a week. “I've been having rather vivid dreams myself. Are you still arriving home in the morning?”

“Da, tigronok. The jet leaves this afternoon.” Her Cheshire Cat grin was evident in her voice, as was a note of anticipation when she continued, “Any significant chatter?”

“Just the usual saber rattling and vows of world domination.” He shook his head at her groan of disappointment. “I could be more specific were I at headquarters and not babysitting a nuclear research laboratory. Have you alerted Napoleon to the impending disaster? That’s news better suited to the head of Section I than to a branch chief.”

“At this hour? It's no more than he deserves, but who knows what I'd be interrupting?”

“When you do pass on this vital intelligence, be sure to tell him it came to you in a dream. That's the best part.”

“Zatknis, dorogoy,” she purred. “Did you pat down the boys?”

"Of course. No contraband—animal, vegetable, or mineral—made it past our threshold.” His daughter rounded the desk, clutching a large doll to her chest. She ducked her head under his free arm, and Illya gave her a squeeze. “Even Lilenchka went through security protocols. She was quite insistent about it.”

“A fine start to Family Day. I assume Lil’ doesn’t wish to talk.”

Illya gestured to the communicator. Liliya eyed the device in distaste and helped herself to a pencil and paper. “Correct. She'll write you a letter.” He tweaked one of her pigtails affectionately.

“Little Luddite. Ya tebya lyublyu.”

“Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu.”

He returned the communicator to his pocket. Liliya wiggled from his embrace and skipped back to her nook to begin writing. Illya had just found his place in the report when a knock rattled the door. He closed the folder and removed his glasses, placing them on top in surrender. “Come in.”

The Director-General peered around door, his eyes bright with unshared news. “Dr. Kuryakin, I've brought a visitor,” he announced.

Illya stood as Dr. Matsu stepped aside and allowed a woman to pass.

“Miki,” Illya called and held out his hand. She raised her brows at it, and swiftly embraced him, planting a kiss on his cheek. “Same old Illya,” she said as she drew back, laughing at his discomfort. “As cute as ever.”

“Miki surprised me by accompanying my grandson today,” Dr. Matsu said, smiling proudly. “She was supposed to be arguing a case, but to my good fortune the trial was postponed.”

“Too bad my client doesn't feel the same.” Miki knelt down by Liliya and examined the sombrero-wearing lobster with mystified delight. “Now that we've had the pleasantries, Father, tell Illya how one of your toys is broken.”

At her words, Illya swung his gaze to Dr. Matsu, who nodded.

“The SppS?”

Dr. Matsu raised his brows. “Yes, it's offline. Did someone already tell you?”

The words ‘my wife’ hovered on the tip of his tongue, but Illya allowed himself only a brief curve of the lips before asking, “What happened?”

“A power failure. We’ve traced it to a unit substation. There's an engineer headed there now.”

“Have him wait for me before he goes in.” As Dr. Matsu stepped aside to radio the technician, Illya picked up the phone, then covered the mouthpiece with his hand. “Miki, would you mind?” he asked, nodding toward his daughter.

Miki grinned and put down a box of miniature hats. “Come on, Liliya, help me find the cafeteria. I'm hungry.” She waited as the young girl picked up her doll, then, with a wink, let herself be led from the office.

Illya pressed the button for Security. “This is a Level 2 Alert. I’m initiating a partial lockdown and a sweep for possible saboteurs. I do not wish to see our guests alarmed, however. How do you manage such a thing? If you wish to retain your position, I suggest you figure that out.” He banged down the receiver in annoyance.

“Do you think it could be Thrush?” Dr. Matsu asked with a small frown, watching as Illya checked the magazine of his Special.

“I always think it could be Thrush,” Illya replied as he buttoned his suit jacket. “I know you object to being under UNCLE auspices, but the charter nations didn't make the request lightly. They’ve too much invested here to allow Thrush to make good on their threats.”

Dr. Matsu toyed with the handle of a coffee mug at the edge of the desk. His smile returned as he read the motto ‘√-1 23 Σ π ... And It Was Delicious’ and the message scrawled across the back, ‘Happy Father’s Day. Love, Sasha and Léon.’

“I’ve come to regard you as a friend, as well as a colleague,” he said. “Sometimes I forget that particle physics is not your primary reason for being here.”

Illya gave an answering, self-deprecating smile. “Some days, Taka, so do I. But not today.”

The two men descended into the bowels of the complex, navigating a maze of conduit-lined tunnels and concrete corridors filled with equipment. When they reached the transformer vault, the engineer was waiting. His eyes widened as Illya pulled out his Special.

“Open it up.”

The engineer unlocked the door and stepped hastily out of the way. Dr. Matsu frowned in distaste. “What's that smell?” he asked.

“Burnt flesh,” Illya said and crossed the threshold.

The room was lit only by dim emergency bulbs. Letting his eyes adjust to the gloom, he swept the room with an efficiency unaltered by the obligatory transition to desk work. When he was satisfied that no intruder lurked amid the hulking electrical equipment, he returned to the corridor and nodded the engineer inside. The beam of his flashlight darted around the room for a few minutes, then paused. “I have found it,” he called.

Illya and Dr. Matsu made their way to the back corner of the room. The flashlight beam shone down on the charred remains of small animal.

“The cable, you see, it has been chewed,” the engineer said, shaking his head. “Sixty-six kilovolts.”

“Poor creature. What do you think it was?” Dr. Matsu asked.

“I am not certain. A weasel, perhaps.”

“Or a ferret,” Illya hissed, his eyes narrowing. “Lock the room. No repairs are to be made until I authorize them.”

“How did it get in there?” Dr. Matsu asked as they headed back to ground level. “A ventilation shaft?”

“Possibly.” Illya paused at a telephone mounted on the tunnel wall. “Get me Security. Kuryakin here. Review all footage covering the exterior intake and exhaust openings from the past 24 hours. Report anything unusual.”

“You still think this could be Thrush?”

“Weaponizing animals has long been in their repertoire,” Illya responded, avoiding a direct answer. “Taka, would you return to the children? I want to be sure they haven't been alarmed by all this. I'll join you shortly.”

Illya’s face was grim when he caught up with the tour group in the courtyard. Seeing a young, grey-eyed version of himself standing beside a tetherball pole caused his expression to soften slightly. A small crowd of children surrounded his son, family members of the facility’s researchers and technicians. “To illustrate the difference between a cyclotron and a synchrotron,” Sasha said in his most donnish tones, “I’ll connect the ball to the pole with a second line, which will keep the radius constant.”

Dr. Matsu stood at Illya’s shoulder. “Young Alexander did such a fine job leading the tour when I stepped out, it seemed only right to let him continue. I wouldn't be surprised if he became Director someday.”

Illya nodded at the compliment, but growled, “If he or Napoleon live that long.”

Eyes brimming with amusement, Dr. Matsu looked to the other side of the courtyard where Sasha’s carbon copy dangled upside down by his knees.

Miki sat on a nearby bench with Liliya. “Be careful, Léon,” she called. “If you fall off a railing on my watch, your father might not appreciate the irony.”

“Are you kidding me? Who do you think taught me this?” Léon swung his body around, his head almost grazing the ground. He released his hold on the bar and flipped through the air, landing on his feet without a wobble.

Dr. Matsu laughed outright. “Is that what you do on the weekends?”

Illya colored. “I taught them for purposes of exercise, not public exhibition.” He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. At the sound, the twins looked up and scanned the courtyard. Illya waved them over.

Still chuckling, Dr. Matsu resumed his charge over the group excitedly hitting a twice-tethered ball around the pole. The twins joined their father, Léon vying for the same flagstone as Sasha. The ensuing war of elbows was brought to a halt by Illya’s sharp rebuke.

“What's going on, Pop?” Léon asked unabashed. “I've seen Security nosing around.”

“I hope you kept that observation to yourself.”

Léon brushed long blond bangs from his eyes. “I know better than that. I offered to help, but they said no.”

“I think we’ve had enough of your help today, thank you.” At his sons’ surprised looks, he said, “The SppS has experienced a severe electrical perturbation.”

Léon turned to his brother. Sasha rolled his eyes. “Durak, it means something or someone cut the power.”

“I know what it means, induk,” Léon hissed and kicked him in the shin.

“Hvatyt!” Illya grabbed both boys by their shoulders and squeezed, steering them farther away from the tour. “A multi-million dollar particle accelerator is offline for the foreseeable future, and you are responsible.”

The boys locked eyes again, and Illya could sense them close ranks. “No, we aren't,” Léon insisted, as Sasha nodded in solidarity. “We’ve been with the tour the whole time.”

“You may have been, but Frank has not.”

Léon frowned. “Franck Schmidt? He’s not here. His dad said he’s sick.”

“Chicken pox,” Sasha confirmed.

“Not Franck Schmidt,” Illya said between clenched teeth, biting off each word. “Frank Burns, your ferret.”

The boys stared at him in silence. Then Sasha put his hand on his father’s arm. “Are you doing OK, Pop? Should we call Ma?”

Illya sighed, longing for a nice, easy Thrush interrogation. “I'm disappointed in you both. After last year's fiasco at headquarters, you promised never to smuggle him anywhere again. Well, you went back on your word, and Frank and this facility have paid the price.”

Léon threw his hands up. “Pop, I swear on Sasha’s head, Frank’s at home in his cage.”

“Swear on your own head,” Sasha muttered, looking thoughtful.

“I called home. Maria says the cage is empty,” Illya informed them. “And I've just seen Frank, or his remains, in a power substation.”

“That doesn't make sense.” Léon began to pace in agitation. “How could we have snuck him out? You put us through security protocols.”

“Perhaps you hid him in the car before then. I don't know yet. But I promise you, I'll find out.”

At his jab, Léon met Sasha’s gaze. His eyes widened in comprehension. They turned to look at their sister. “It was Lil’ka!”

“Don't you dare pin the blame on your sister,” Illya warned them, looking across the courtyard at Liliya. She played a hand-clapping game with Miki, blue eyes shining brightly while her partner chanted the verse. He recalled the knowing gleam that shone from those same eyes earlier, and the thought gave him pause.

“Like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth,” Sasha ventured to comment.

“Where did you hear that?”

“Uncle Alexander.”

“He’s said that of your mother too.”

“And she'll shoot you where you stand,” Léon said.

Illya raised a brow at his words but did not argue with them.

Two hands slipped into his, a familiar gesture that had grown less frequent as the boys approached adolescence. He gave them a squeeze. “Alright, I will ask her.”

“Yes! Can we be bad cop and you be good cop?” Léon asked.

“Actually a truth serum tablet would be more efficacious in this situation,” Sasha said.

Illya rolled his eyes. “Why don't I call HQ and have them ready an interrogation room?”

“Would you?” Léon asked. “Oh, you’re pulling our legs. What's the plan?”

“To handle this delicately. If it was indeed your sister, I have to tell her that Frank is dead.”

“How come she gets the kid gloves and not us?”

Illya waved to his daughter. “You once strapped that ferret to a rocket and tried to send it into space.”

“It would’ve been a world record if you hadn't stopped us.”

“And I made him a flight suit and helmet,” Sasha added. “All the preliminary trials indicated he'd be fine.”

Liliya heeded her father’s gesture and skipped across the courtyard to them. He crouched down and put a hand on her arm. “Lilenchka, I have an important question to ask, and you need to answer truthfully. Did you sneak your brothers’ ferret into Family Day?”

Liliya’s eyes swept the three of them. A grin like a Cheshire Cat slowly spread across her face. “Yes,” she said.

Sasha gave a long, low whistle. Leon shook his father’s shoulder. “See, Pop, we told you we didn't do it.”

“Yes, yes, mea culpa. Your reputation preceded you.” He sighed and stood, lifting his daughter into his arms. He met her wide blue eyes and hesitated, searching for the right words.

“Come on, Pop, let her have it. Grounded for life. This is worse than anything we've done.”

“Don't consider that a challenge,” Illya warned. He drew a deep breath and started to speak. “Lil—”

“If it pleases the court, I'd like to enter new evidence on behalf of my client.” Miki joined their family conference, her expression business-like, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Your Honor, I’ve seen dolls that eat and cry and wet, but never one about to give birth.”

She held out Liliya’s doll and lifted its dress. The cloth torso moved with a life of its own, as if something writhed inside of it.

“Just like Alien,” Léon breathed.

Suddenly the side seam opened and a furry brown head poked out.

“Frank!” the boys called, each stepping forward. Sasha reached the doll first and pulled their pet out. “Good ol’ Ferret Face.”

Liliya shook her head. “File 40.”

“What's she mean, Pop?” Léon asked, rubbing Frank’s head.

“Never you mind. Liliya, where did you hear that term?”

“Uncle ‘Xander.”

“No fair. He tells her all the good stories,” Sasha complained.

A cough sounded behind them. Illya turned to find a Security agent, the same one he had reprimanded on the phone earlier. “Sir, I'm sorry to interrupt, but you said to report anything unusual.” He paused, looking at the others, his eyes lingering on the ferret perched on Sasha’s shoulder.

“Oh, go on. It's Family Day, after all.”

The agent blinked, then gave a small shrug. “We found something on the video that you should see.”

“A nice, straightforward Thrush sabotage, I hope.”

“Looks like it, sir,” the agent said, regarding his chief in confusion.

The boys charged up to him, peppering him with questions.

“Did the animal appear radio-controlled?” “Was it a ferret like Frank?” “Or perhaps a weasel or a beech marten?” “Can we see the video?” “Can we see the remains?”

Illya let their rapid-fire questions continue, figuring an agent who could not handle his sons would have no hope against Thrush. He looked at Miki. “Thank you.”

Miki handed over the doll and a business card. “Keep this handy. I have the feeling you may need it someday.” She laughed and went to join the tour group as it headed out of the courtyard.

Illya considered his daughter as she hummed a little tune to her doll. “I have some work to do now. But don't think we're finished talking about this, young lady.”

She nodded. “May I finish my letter now, Papa?”

“I think that's a good idea. Your mother will want to hear all about it.”

"Uncle 'Xander too."

Illya set her on her feet. She held his hand and skipped beside him as they headed back to his office.

“What else do you and Mr. Waverly talk about while you help him in the garden?”

A wide, mysterious grin stretched across her face once more. Illya’s scalp tingled.

“Classified,” she said.


End file.
